


The Year After Meeting You

by edgy_omelette



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Awkwardness, Bookstores, Break Up, Canon Gay Relationship, Cat POV, Cats, Confessions, Crushes, Crying, Cute, Dating, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Family, Feelings, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Football, Friendship, Gay Panic, Happy Ending, High School, Homophobia, Human POV, Intoxication, Jealousy, LGBTQ Themes, Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, My First AO3 Post, Oblivious, Original Character(s), Other, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Pining, Romance, Secrets, Short, Short Chapters, Slurs, Soulmates, Supportive Younger Sister, Teenagers, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 18:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19932754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgy_omelette/pseuds/edgy_omelette
Summary: Chapel is a young Bombay cat who lives in a bookstore with his owners, Jack Ferry and his dad, Patrick Ferry. Jack's life is slow and dull until one of his regular customers introduces him to her brother, a handsome jock Jack's age. Being in his senior year of high school, Jack's life takes a turn for the better, and he eventually finds love and friendship where he least expected it.Set in a misc. countryside town. Based off of Iowa, but no real name is given.





	The Year After Meeting You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! The first story I'm publishing on AO3. I'm excited to see the feedback, and will definitely publish my other works if this one gains enough traction. I mainly wrote this for myself because writing this type of stuff is fun for me. Romance and pining ensue! Also, a slight trigger warning. Violence, homophobia, and homophobic slurs. Queer is used both as an identity and as an insult. If any of these things bother you, you probably shouldn't read.
> 
> Also, for the time being, this story is discontinued. I'm still working on it, but won't be updating it regularly. 4/11/20

**September 15, 2007**

A chilly autumn’s afternoon, a small kitten lies in the brush. It meows miserably, yearning for warmth and comfort. The night approaches, and it knows that once it does, it may not survive. It digs itself deeper into the bare branches, the sticks raking at its skin.

A faint voice can be heard. The kitten shakes in fear, the hairs on its back rising in a pitiful attempt to make itself look bigger.

“Dad! I found the source of the meowing!” The voice says, only feet away from the cat’s hiding spot. The branches are pushed aside, a young boy’s face beaming at the trembling figure. With a towel, the boy picks up the cat. It struggles briefly, but gives in, knowing that whatever may come will be what is best for it.

The towel was warm, and the boy’s hands were warmer. A brief walk leads the pair to a house. Small and cozy, and best of all, heated on the inside. The father of the boy, the cat presumed, provided it with a saucer of milk. The kitten lapped at this hungrily, starting to feel at ease.

After finishing, the cat looked up at the boy. A pair of spectacles sat crookedly on his nose, a deep auburn color similar to those of his hair, which was cut to his ears on his head. His nose buttony, and smile wide. 

“What should we call it, dad?” The boy asked his father. The father appeared behind the cat, startling it.

“Whatever you want, Jack. You found it, after all.”

Jack sat thoughtfully for a few seconds and then spoke. “What do you think of the name Chapel? Like Whitechapel? The city in London?”

The father snorted. “Isn’t that a bit ironic for a black cat?”

Jack frowned. “ _I_ like it.”

“If you say so, kiddo.”

-

**September 15, 2012**

“Hey, Chapel.”

Chapel looked up from his position on top of the bookshelf. He turned his head curiously, having heard his name. 

Jack stood below, looking up to where he was seated. 

“Do you know what day it is?”

Chapel stayed silent, still looking at Jack.

“It’s the fifth anniversary of when we found you! I know it means nothing to you since you’re just a cat, but I thought I’d mention it out loud so it won’t be forgotten.”

Another voice came deep from within the shop. It was Jack’s father, Patrick Ferry. He owned the shop with pride and joy and allowed Chapel to hang out during the day. 

“Are you talking to the cat again, Jack?” His voice boomed with laughter and he approached his son. “You got to get a hobby, kid.”

Jack scowled and spoke with irritability. “Isn’t running the book store enough of a hobby for me? I can’t do much else with my time since I’m stuck here helping you.”

“Ouch. Well, if you wanted a day off, you could’ve just asked! You’re finishing high school in 6 months, and I just wanted you to have an actual career path. Not this.”

Chapel watched as the two bickered back and forth. He found these conversations amusing, but not for very long. He climbed down the side of the shelf, landing on the carpeted floor with ease. 

One of Chapel’s favorite spots to hang out was the front of the shop. A large window gave him a view of everything that was happening outside. Not that very much happened. A paved road, where an occasional car would pass was about as eventful as it would get. Today, it was a bright afternoon. 

The fields were visible in the distance and Chapel felt the urge to go outside and prowl around. Of course, this was not possible, for he was not allowed outside by himself. He sat on the window ledge and began grooming himself.

The bickering in the back stopped eventually, Jack returning to his position shelving books, and the father going back to count or stock whatever was needed.

-

**September 16, 2012**

A Sunday. Another afternoon of sitting on the shelves and watching a scarce amount of customers walking in and out. Some barely noticed Chapel; he blended in with the navy-blue walls of the store. Others were keener and saw a pair of bright yellow eyes staring at them as they browsed the worn covers.

Some tried cooing him down from his place. He would sometimes oblige, getting scratches behind the ears that Jack could not always provide. On other occasions, he would ignore them completely, not to be bothered with strange humans he had never met before.

There was one particular customer that frequently visited. Rudy, he’d heard the other shop-owners call her. A girl Jack’s age, perhaps a year or two younger.

She stood out incredibly. Her outfit was dark and studded and she had several piercings adorning her face. Her hair was rather short compared to the other females he’d seen. It was as black as Chapel’s fur.

Although she appeared intimidating, Chapel did not fear her. She was kind and gentle. She’d bring treats when she’d visit, which was all that he cared about. On occasion, she would sit and read for hours, sitting near the electric heater and inviting Chapel to join her. Truly bliss when she visited.

This afternoon, Chapel spotted her. Her clothes, somewhat reflective, stood out from across the street. She was not alone this time, and with her, she brought another person. 

They crossed the street, Rudy entering first, holding the door open for the person following.

“Jack! You in here?” She yelled into the store.

“Yep! Give me a second!”

Jack walked out from behind the counter, smiling and holding several books.

“Hey, Rudy. I picked out some books I thought you might like.” He set them down on the table, finally glancing at the other person who was behind her.

“Who-” Jack faltered, coughed, and looked from Rudy to the newcomer. “Who’s this?”

The other person, Chapel noted, matched in Jack’s stature. Tall, but well-built. This was a boy of Jack’s age, but something about his maturity rang differently with Chapel. He seemed more confident than the lanky boy Chapel had grown to love.

“This,” Rudy started, gesturing behind her, “Is my brother, Jon. I told you about him, remember?”

“Ah, yup. I remember now, yes.”

Jack’s manner of talking was different around Jon. With Rudy, he talked normally and calmly, but something made Jack nervous around Jon. It wasn’t a fear-nervous, but a kind that Chapel had not seen before.

“Nice to meet you, Jon.” Jack shakily held out his hand, it latching onto Jon’s in a brief greeting gesture.

“Likewise, Jack. Do you have any books on football or sports in general?” 

Jack glanced at the computer screen near him and typed in a few letters. He gestured for Jon to follow him to a nearby shelf.

Chapel then decided to go greet Rudy. Rudy noticed him and slightly squealed, concerning Chapel. “Oh! Chapel! Here you go, bud. I brought your favorite today.”

She pulled out a baggie from her coat pocket. Inside, small meat kibbles that Chapel graciously took from her hand. “Jon! Look! This is the cat I was telling you about.”

Jon appeared alongside Jack, smiling at Chapel. “What a nice kitty.” He crouched down and held his hand out for Chapel to smell. He seemed respectable enough, so Chapel let him pat his head. “What’s its name?”

“His name is Chapel, short for Whitechapel,” Jack responded.

“Chapel, huh?” He patted Chapel once more. “That’s a cute name.”

Chapel looked up at Jack, who was standing near Rudy. His face had gone significantly redder. “You think so? I mean, I was only twelve when I named him, and I was obsessed with Victorian-era history when I was younger, so I thought that naming a cat after a city a famous murderer resided in would be…” Jack trailed off when he realized that both Rudy and Jon were looking at him oddly.

“Sorry.” He muttered, turning away briefly and pretending to be fixing a book on the shelf.

Jon stood up from the floor and set the book he was holding on the counter. “Can I buy this one?”

“Of course, let me ring you up.” Jack sounded muffled, and he walked behind the counter staring at the floor. He scanned the book, took Jon’s money, and popped open a drawer full of cash.

Chapel returned to his position on top of the bookshelf. He had seen enough, and was satisfied with the snack Rudy had given him. 

“Jon, I’m gonna stay here for a bit more. I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Aight, sis. Don’t stay out too late.”

Jon left the store, the door swinging behind him.

“Jack.”

“Please don’t say anything else, Rudy, I’m trying to count the money.”

“Jaaack.”

Jack sighed and looked up. “What?”

“You like him.”

Jack’s already reddish-face got ten-times redder. “What? What are you talking about? _Who_ are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Jack. You got the hots for my brother.”

“Nooooo? I just met him. I’m usually awkward around new people.”

“We both know that is a lie, Ferry.”

He scoffed and starting cleaning the counter. It wasn’t dirty, from what Chapel could tell, but more or less an action to avoid conversation.

Rudy leaned her back against the front table, slouching so her head was upside down and facing Jack. “I mean, who _wouldn’t_ like a tall, blond, muscular, football jock who is also secretly a nerd? And I think you might have a chance since I haven’t seen any girls at the house, like, _ever._ ”

“He’s a nerd?” Jack asked quietly.

“Well, yea! He might only like sports on the surface but his grades are great, he _really_ likes animals (we have a few chickens back at home), and I’ve seen him reading books on physics and other lame stuff.”

“Are you trying to pair me up with your brother?”

Rudy chuckled. “I mean why not? Having a boyfriend would probably do him _some_ good.”

Jack leaned on the counter, resting his face in his hands. “He _is_ kind of a dreamboat.”

She leaped up. “See? I told you! You _do_ like him.”

“I guess a little.” Jack stretched a bit. “It’s getting late, Rudy. I’m gonna have to close up soon. Still wanna buy anything?”

“Eh. I was just hanging out, but, here, I’ll buy this bookmark so you don’t go out of business.”

She took the cloth bookmark and stuffed it in her oversized jacket. Rudy placed a few coins on the table. “Thanks for the time, Jack! I’ll tell my brother to visit more often. Have a good night!”

She left. Jack tossed his entire torso onto the table, groaning loudly. Chapel walked over to him, passing underneath where his hands were hanging.

“Is it time to feed you already, Chappie?” Chapel meowed a yes. 

“Okay.”

-

**September 19, 2012**

At around four in the afternoon, Jon visited again. This time, he came without Rudy.

Chapel looked up as the door chimes sounded. Recognizing Jon, he went back to lazing on top of the bookshelf. He kept his eyes on Jack, who stood below him, placing stickers on the spines of books.

"Welcome to Ferry's Old and New Novels, how may I-" Jack glanced at the door, and seeing Rudy's brother, he stammered, "How may I be of assistance today, Jon?"

He smiled at Jack. "I was hoping you could help me find a book for one of my classes?"

Jack set down stickers on the shelf and walked over to Jon. "Of course. What- what are you looking for?"

Jon dug a hand into his sports jersey, pulling out a folded note. He handed the paper to Jack.

Jack looked at the paper for a few seconds and walked over to the computer behind the counter. He typed, his eyes jetting back and forth as he read whatever was on the screen. He let out a small puff of air.

"It looks like we don't have that book at the store, Jon. But, I can order it for you if you want!" 

Jon nodded. "When would it be ready?"

Jack pressed a few more buttons. "A few days. Maybe on Friday? It's Wednesday, so it should be here by the weekend."

"Great. Could you let me know when I can come to get it? I need it for my elective."

"Yep! I would just need…" Jack realized what he was saying, but it was too late to go back. "I would just need your number."

Chapel sat up. He felt a strange air between Jack and Jon. Jon seemed unfazed, but Jack was entering a state he could only describe as panic.

"Sure. Here, let me type it into your phone."

Jack was caught off guard and spluttered. "I was- I was gonna call you on the store landline when it was ready. I don't- I don't think I'm allowed to directly contact you from my cell."

Jon shrugged. "It's fine. We're friends, right? You can just text me when the book gets here."

Chapel watched as his boy struggled to pull the thin piece of plastic and metal out of his jeans pocket. He had never seen Jack this nervous before. It was unnatural, and Chapel wondered if he was afflicted with an ailment or another malady.

The silence was brief. Jon was keying in his number while Jack watched on edge. He was shifting from foot to foot, biting his cheek and tapping a thumb on the counter. When Jon looked up again, he put on his 'customer-service' smile and stiffened.

"Well, thank you for the help, Jack. Before I leave, I meant to ask you if you went to Alacrity?"

"Alacrity High School? Yea, I do, why?"

"Well, I don't see you around much outside of this shop, and I thought It would be neat if we could hang out before or after class. My so-called 'friends' are kinda jerks, and if you went to Alacrity, we could be friends. It's a relief to chill with someone who isn't football-obsessed like some of my teammates."

Jack was quiet, and when he spoke, it was at a whisper. Chapel could barely hear him from the other end of the store.

"Yes. I would like that."

"Great! Wanna meet up after school on Friday? If the book arrives by then, you could bring it to me and we can hang out for a bit."

Jack sighed. "I have to watch the shop after school. But maybe I can ask my dad? I'll let you know by tomorrow."

"It's a deal! See you later, Jack!" Jon waved him goodbye and exited the store.

"Bye, Jon."

Chapel decided now was a good time to check up on Jack. He climbed down from his perch and hopped onto the counter.

Jack had his head in his arms. From what little forehead was exposed, sweat beaded. Chapel licked the exposed skin, and Jack chuckled deeply from within his arms.

"Oh, Chapel. I'm okay. Just a train-wreck, that's all."

Jack slid the phone onto the counter, staring at the illuminated screen. "I can't believe I got his number. As a friend!"

Chapel licked Jack again, this time with more tenacity. He mewed. 

"Food? Is that what you want?"

Chapel purred. 

"Right." He sighed. "That's all you ever want from me."

-

**September 20, 2012**

"Dad?"

It was morning in Ferry's Old and New Novels. Jack Ferry sat on a couch in the back, eating breakfast before heading to school. 

"What's up, kid?"

Jack ate a spoonful of oatmeal from his cup and spoke to his father in a cautious tone.

"Do you think I could take the day off after school tomorrow? To hang out with a friend after class?"

Patrick Ferry, who was pacing the store to make sure everything was in order, looked up to his son. "Of course, Jack. You deserve a break every once in a while. Just promise me you won't stay up too late, do anything illegal, or forget to open up the store in the morning Saturday."

He took another bite of his breakfast. "Got it, dad."

Jack stood up, scraping the bottom of the container he was eating from. He took one last scoop and dropped the cup into the trash can by the door.

"I'm off to school, dad."

"Have a good day, kiddo. I'm glad you've found some friends to keep you company."

He smiled tiredly at his father and left the shop. The chimes rang, announcing his departure, and rousing Chapel from his slumber.

He knew Jack left at this hour. Without much thought, he went back to sleep, shifting in the bed his owners had set up for him in the backroom.

-

**September 21, 2012**

Jack stood outside of the bookstore, waiting. It was around three in the afternoon, and he was supposed to meet Jon after class. 

He glanced around anxiously, checking his wristwatch every few seconds as if anything would change suddenly.

Chapel sat inside of the shop, watching Jack curiously. After a few minutes of this repeated behavior, he sulked back into the store. He was bored.

"Hey, Jack! Thanks for waiting for me!"

Jack looked up. He had been staring at the pavement, counting the cracks to try to calm himself down.

"Jon! You had me worried!"

He ran up to where Jack was standing, out of breath and sweaty in the chilly September afternoon. "Sorry. My math teacher held me back after class. He wanted to see if I could tutor some other kid after school next week."

This tidbit of information interested Jack. "Oh? You tutor?"

Jon's expression was sheepish. "Sometimes. If I'm not busy with football I'll help others with their homework or whatever."

Jon began walking down the sidewalk. Jack followed, having to run to catch up to his brisk pace.

"Where are we going?" asked Jack.

"My house. I was hoping I could show you the animals." He smiled, walking faster.

Jack's heart thudded in his chest. Besides having to run to keep up with Jon, he was nervous. He had rarely gone to other people's houses, even less _a boy's._

The cemented roads turned to packed dirt. They twisted and turned, passing expansive properties and barns.

"Just a bit more," said Jon.

And then he saw it. At the end of the roundabout was a large, wooden house. It was painted a robin-egg blue and had a large porch in the front with two rocking chairs sitting empty.

Jon stopped before the steps. "This is my house. Pretty big, huh?"

Jack was speechless. "It's… It's very _big._ "

He chuckled. "Yep. There's a field out back, and then the barn with all the animals."

"You said you had chickens?"

Jon nodded. "Yea. And a few sheep, goats, and cows."

"Sustainable." Jack was impressed. 

"Right." He waved his arm to the doorway. "Let's head inside."

Inside, the environment was even nicer. The stairs to the second floor were near the entrance to the left. To the right was the kitchen and dining room, which took up the entire side. Past the stairs was a pantry and the living room. A set of large patio doors stood at the back. Each visible surface was polished and clean, and there were bookshelves full of thick textbooks lining the walls.

The air conditioning was on, and it was slightly colder than the outside. Jack shivered, not entirely used to the cold even after having lived in this climate for almost two decades.

"Are you cold? Let's head to my room, it's usually warmer in there."

Jon started up the stairs, Jack following. 

The first door on the left was Rudy's. The door was propped open with a chair, and Jack peeked inside. She sat on her bed, writing in a journal. Rudy glanced up and saw Jack.

"Oh hey, Jack! Didn't hear you come in. Are you here to see the chickens?"

"I hope so, yes."

"Well, the chickens are downstairs, not in my brother's room. You took a wrong turn."

Rudy was teasing, but Jack still felt embarrassed. He felt his ears go hot.

She chuckled and went back to writing.

Jon opened the door to his room and called Jack over. The floorboards creaked under his feet, but it was nothing new to him. His house was also made out of wood.

Jon's room was a sight to behold. On the far back right were more bookshelves. Besides books, there were several small trophies displayed, along with a large one sitting next to the shelf.

His bed was king-sized and neatly made. Behind the bed frame were several posters of different sports teams and players, few Jack could recognize. In front of the bed was a flat-screen, a video-game console placed underneath it. The black dresser it sat on was clean, without a speck of dust. There was another door in the room, leading to what he guessed was the closet. A desk sat next to the bookshelves, a stack of papers and books pressed against the wall.

"Did you bring the book?" Jon's voice snapped him out of his daze. He had been so keen on examining the room, he had forgotten about Jon briefly.

"Yeah. Of course." Jack dug into his backpack, pulling out the heavy textbook. It was on physics, a class-required material that had to be ordered often because purchasing it in bulk was impossible.

Before taking the book, Jon dug around in the dresser. He pulled out a small plastic box, opening it to reveal a wad of money. He set down around five bills, totaling around a hundred dollars.

"The book is only eighty, so you can keep this twenty-dollar bill."

He put the remaining change back into the box, shutting the lid and sliding it underneath a stack of clothes. 

Jack gingerly took the money and put it into a pocket in the backpack. He hoped he wouldn't lose it.

"I'll put it in the cash register when I get back."

"Do you wanna play anything? I have a few video games that are multiplayer if you'd like." He pulled out a stack of cases and began rifling through them.

After selecting a game, Jon and Jack played competitively. This went on for several hours, time passed quickly as they both enjoyed themselves. 

“The chickens, right!” Jon suddenly yelled, standing up.

Jack had been sitting on the floor in front of the bed. Jon held out an arm to help him get up. A quick ‘thanks’ was muttered from Jack.

Jon, with a certain enthusiasm, ran downstairs, Jack trailing behind him. He got to the back door and swung it open, letting Jack pass.

“Over here!” He yelled, having crossed half of the open backyard in less than a few seconds.

“Wow, you are fast!” Jack was out of breath, and he stood nearby trying to catch it.

“This is Lady.” He picked up a hen that had been sitting in her coop. “Want to hold her? Careful, she poops.”

Jack took the chicken from Jon’s arm and held onto it. Right on cue, the chicken let out a spray of feces. Fun. It narrowly missed Jack’s clothing. 

“Oh. Gross.” He attempted to set down Lady as best as he could, but she began flapping her wings in a panicked state.

“Sorry about that.” Abashed, Jon went over to the other chickens, trying his best to calm them down. 

Jack smiled. “No worries. They’re cute. I probably just scared her.”

Jack looked up at the sky. The night was approaching and he would have to get back to check on Chapel. 

“Huh. It’s barely 5 in the afternoon and it’s almost dark out. I have to get back, Jon. Chapel needs to be fed if my dad hasn’t already.”

Jon frowned. “Can I come with you?”

“Sure? I’m just gonna go feed him and then head home.”

“It _is_ getting dark out, and I don’t want you to get hurt getting back. The trails are uneven back to the main street. I don’t _have to_ but ya know.”

“ _Right_. Let me just get my backpack. Wait for me by the front door.” Jack ran back to the back porch, shutting the door behind him. He passed the living room and climbed up the stairs, heading straight for Jon’s room. 

His backpack was sitting on the floor right next to the bed, but curiosity got the best of him and he started looking around. On the shelf with the trophies, there was a small plaque with his name on it. ‘Jon Archer’ it read, in small, gold letters. Based on other details, he was a quarterback and a good one at that. Jack’s eyes drifted from the main shelf to the desk.

Homework, it seemed. But something caught his eye. Amongst the stack of papers, there was an envelope. Handwritten, and addressed to Jon. The letter sat outside and Jack peeked at it.

It was a heartfelt love letter to Jon. From a girl.

Jack scowled.

He had been there too long. He looked at the letter one last time and quickly left, picking up his backpack and heading down the stairs. Jon was waiting there for him.

“Ready to go?”

Jack could barely manage a ‘yes’. He felt desolate. 

-

**September 27, 2012**

Chapel noticed that Jack had been in a foul mood for the past week. When he had returned from his excursion with the other boy, he was depressed, Chapel sensed.

He had begrudgingly fed him and sat down on a couch near the space heater. The other boy, (Jon, Chapel remembered) had left shortly after they both arrived. He didn’t even stay to talk, and a sparse farewell was shared between both of them.

It was a Thursday, and Jack was tending to the shop as usual. The scowl on his face that had appeared that afternoon a week ago was gone and instead replaced by a small frown. 

_Jack, what is wrong?_ He wanted to say, but he could not for he did not possess the vocal cords for such action. 

Instead, he made sure to give him extra attention and love, for he would need it.

-

**October 2, 2012**

“Are you ignoring my brother?”

Rudy had stormed into the shop, the door swinging behind her.

“No? Why?” 

Jack was confused, and he immediately stepped out from behind the counter to confront Rudy.

“He says you’ve stopped talking to him at school, and all that junk. And that you’ve been ignoring his messages!”

Jack let out a sigh. “Yea.”

“Why, Jack?”

Jack signaled for her to sit down, and they crossed over to the couch in the back.

“I feel that if I keep talking to him, I’ll lead myself on.”

Rudy made a sound of confusion. “Elaborate, please.”

“Well... he’s straight.”

“Ah. That’s what you fear. Falling for a straight guy. As a gay guy.”

Rudy slumped on the couch and sat up again. “What makes you think he’s straight? Do you have any definite proof?”

“I saw a love letter from a girl in his room.”

Rudy erupted into laughter. “OH! THAT! Hah, if you think he’s straight because of that you are hella wrong.”

“What?”

“He showed me that letter. Real sweet stuff. Makes my teeth rot. Anyways, he didn’t even like it that much. He wrote an apology to the poor girl and gave it to her at school the next day. She was crying and all that. Hard to watch. Well, the letter pretty much just said that he couldn’t return her feelings and that if they started a relationship it wouldn’t work out.”

“That’s a relief. But, I still don’t know if he’s gay.”

“Want me to ask him?”

Jack babbled an incoherent sentence. She asked him to repeat himself because she had _no idea_ what Jack had just said. He paused, took a deep breath, and started again.

“Isn’t that too direct? Just asking your siblings what their sexuality is?”

“Nah. He’s asked me! I just told him I was queer and that was the end of that. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

Jack seemed open to this idea, and he nodded slowly. “Go for it. Text me the answers later. Let me add my number to your phone.”

-

“Jon? Where are you?”

“Up in my room!”

Rudy went up the stairs to her brother’s room, setting her book bag in her doorway before heading to his. 

“What’s up?”

“Just was wondering, are you gay?”

Jon’s eyes widened in surprise and he set down the book he was reading. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

He placed a bookmark into page he was reading and swung his feet to the side of the bed. “Well- I don’t know. I guess I’m bisexual. Or gay. Or straight. I do not know.”

Rudy sat down next to her brother. She was younger than him by a few years, but she still had a big-sister presence. “Have you ever had feelings for girls?”

Jon nodded. “Yea, in middle school, I think,”

“How about guys?”

“There was a guy in freshman year on the team that I admired for a bit. I don’t think it was a crush but I can’t be sure since I always felt weird around him.”

“So, bi. See? That was easy.”

Jon fell flat on his back. “What do I do with this information?”

Rudy chuckled. “Figure it out yourself. Thanks for telling me, bro.”

“Ugh, since when do you call me ‘bro’?” Rudy left the room laughing at Jon’s disturbed expression. She went over to her room to text Jack.

“He’s bi.” she messaged and went to flip through her notebook while she awaited a response. 

“Really? Wow. Thanks.” Jack responded almost immediately.

“No problem. Don’t be afraid to shoot your shot now, kid.”

“I’m older than you, Rudy.”

“Keep telling yourself that. I’m ancient. An old-world goddess.”

There was no response after that. Rudy shrugged and went back to her notebook.

-

**October 6, 2012**

“I’m sorry for ignoring you. Can we hang out?”

Jon was silent on the other line. He had picked up the phone and said ‘Hello?’, but all that could be heard was his breathing.

“Jon?”

“Yea. Sure. When?”

“I was thinking right now?”

“Okay.”

“Meet me at the shop?”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

And he hung up. Jack slipped the phone into his pocket and went over to where Chapel was sitting. He was anxious, as usual, and he stroked Chapel’s back to try to calm himself down. He reached for a nearby book and went to sit by the window, waiting for Jon to arrive.

When he did, Jack stood up, alarming Chapel who was laying next to him.

“Jon.”

Jon frowned. He stood in front of Jack, silent and with an expression of remorse on his face.

“I’m sorry, Jon. For ignoring you.”

Jon shook his head, “It’s fine, Jack. I’m still friends with you. No matter what.”

Jack smiled sadly. “Cool. Can we go play some video games?”

“Of course.”

-

"Dinnertime! Jon! Rudy! That friend of yours can come to eat too, Jon!"

Jack set down his controller and took out his phone. 

"My dad says I can stay for dinner. He'll feed Chapel tonight."

"Great! Let's go eat before the food gets cold." Jon paused the game and headed for the stairs.

Downstairs, five plates were set up at the dining table. Jon's father was already seated at the head of the table, and Jon's mother was serving salad onto individual plates.

Jon sat down two seats away from his dad, forcing Jack to sit next to him when he took the seat empty next to Jon. His mom finished serving food and sat down across from Jack.

Rudy came downstairs, eventually, practically dragging herself to the seat vacant next to her mother. After her arrival, the other family members began to eat.

Jack served himself a decent helping of mashed potatoes, pouring a thick gravy from a saucer on top.

The food was exquisite, he thought, something different from the meals his father prepared for them. He could tell there was love in the cooking.

"Do you like it, honey?" asked the mother to Jack.

Jack nodded, spooning another mouthful of the steaming hot potatoes into his mouth.

"What's your name, kiddo?" This was the father.

"Jack Ferry. My dad owns a bookshop not too far from here."

Jon's father stroked his beard, somewhat long, but still dark in color. Compared to the other family members, his hair was black. His wife was the one with the blonde hair, a warm color that wasn't bright yellow, but something with earthy pink undertones. 

"Yes. I remember seeing that place. A small shop indeed. How is business usually?"

"Empty most of the time. We get some frequent customers. Rudy's one."

Rudy looked up after hearing her name. She flashed a quick smile and went back to devouring her plate.

"That's great to hear, Jack. Having something to work on after school keeps kids your age out of trouble." Something about her tone was cautionary, but Jack didn't notice.

Everyone finished eating. Jon's mother gathered up the plates and stuck them in the dishwasher. She went to the pantry and then returned with a large glass bottle of a pale-orange liquid.

"Apple juice! Made here, fresh." She was ecstatic, and she served everyone a good helping into their cups.

Jack took a sip and was surprised at how good it was. Sweet, cinnamony, and crisp. He nodded at Jon and mouthed the words 'good stuff' to him.

Rudy finished her glass and left the table, going upstairs.

Her father leaned across the table, talking in almost a whisper.

"Jack, son, have you heard the story of the time Jon thought he killed one of the goats?"

He chuckled. "No?"

"Well, it happened like this. He was outside feeding them. Unusual for him, because Rudy usually does this. He gave 'em their grain and all that, and something he did cause one of the goats to lock up."

Jon was paying attention now, a light blush spreading across his face.

"He came back inside, sobbing and screaming, that he had killed one of the goats! I was surprised! I thought feeding those critters was one of the hardest tasks to mess up. So out back and the goat was just fine! Walking and bleating and what not. And Jon was so confused! He was still wiping tears from his face and this goat just walks up to him all good. His face was incredible! You should've seen it."

Jack laughed and turned to look at Jon. He was embarrassed, of course, but was chuckling along. 

"I could also tell you a story of when he milked the wrong cow. Oh boy, was that a real mistake!"

"That's enough, pops." Jon stood up from the table, holding his hand for Jack to get up. "You should probably get back to the shop or your house. It's dark out. I'll walk you."

Jack took his hand, pushing in the chair with his free one. He didn't let go of Jon's for another few seconds when he realized that it was odd that he was still holding it.

He coughed, covering his mouth with the chair hand. "Right. Sorry."

After a brief run upstairs, Jack returned to the front door with his belongings.

"Where are we going? The bookstore, or your house?"

The time on Jack's phone read almost 9 PM. "Dad probably already closed up. I'll just head home."

"I'll walk you! Just give me an address and I'll make sure you get home safe."

This gesture warmed Jack, even if it was freezing outside. He listed off his address and they began walking down the dirt path.

Silence, for the most part. Their shoulders bumped occasionally. Jack would mutter a 'turn here' or 'this way', making that the only noise for a long time.

Jon broke the silence. "Why did you ignore me, Jack?"

Jack remained quiet for some time, thinking. "I thought that starting a friendship with you would end in remorse and pining."

"Pining? What's that?"

"It's… It's nothing important. It just means that the friendship wouldn't work out. And that I would be at fault."

Jon's voice raised. "Hey! Don't say that. You're never at fault for a friendship not working out. Sometimes people just aren't compatible. But I think we work."

In the darkness, Jack smiled. "Thank you, Jon."

"Of course,"

The rest of the walk was quiet, and they finally reached Jack's doorstep.

"Thanks."

Jon nodded. "Anything for a friend." He held out his arms for a hug, and Jack sunk into it graciously. Jon was the one to break it apart.

"You should probably head inside. Chapel's waiting for you."

He was right. The curtains were pushed aside to reveal a fuzzy, black head, and two bright eyes.

Jack laughed and pulled open the door, waving goodbye to Jon one last time.

As he entered, he was greeted by Chapel rubbing his face on his legs. 

"Yes, Chapel, I know. I was gone for some time today. Thank you for waiting."

Jack stepped over to where the cat was perched and watched Jon go. He had lingered for a moment outside the door, then began his trek back to his own house. Jack watched him until he could no longer distinguish him in the darkness.

"Jack? Are you home?" His father called from the living room.

"Yes, dad. You need something?"

"Another beer from the fridge?"

As Jack walked to the kitchen, he saw his father slouched in front of the television. Some late-night sports game was on, and several beer cans sat on the coffee table, empty. An eaten TV dinner, along with other objects were there, too.

Jack handed him the next beer can hesitantly, knowing that he was a light-weight. He had no choice in the matter because if he denied it to him, he would get violently angry. He'd learned this from past times.

"Thanks, kid." He cracked it open and took a long swig. His breath reeked of alcohol, and Jack stepped back a few paces to avoid having to smell it.

"You can go. I don't need anything else." His speech was slurred. Jack hurried to his room and shut the door behind him, Chapel sliding in at the last second. He hopped onto Jack's bed, kneading the top blanket with his front paws.

"What a good baker you would make, Chappie," Jack whispered to himself. 

He changed his clothes and showered. There was a small bathroom connected to his room so he wouldn't have to step outside.

Once in his PJs, he felt exhaustion wash over him. He shut off the lamp, and went to sleep, the cat resting by the small of his back.

-

**October 11, 2012**

For the first time since they met, Jack sat at the same lunch table as Jon.

It's not like he wasn't invited before, he just didn't feel comfortable enough to hang out with _his_ clique of friends.

Jon had called him over as Jack carried his tray over to his usual spot. By himself, usually, or with another group of kids that didn't care what happened around them. 

He sat down next to Jon and he introduced his friends to Jack. A bit formal, Jack thought, shaking hands with the other seniors.

There was Murray, a red-head with muscled arms and a tight handshake. He smiled lightly, but his eyes were cold and shallow.

Next, Xavier. Tall, dark, and handsome. His greeting seemed more genuine than Murray's.

Bo was up last. Standing next to Jon, he seemed like a carbon copy. Besides his face and hair, which was shoulder-length, they matched in almost every aspect. Bo's jawline was so sharp you could probably grate cheese on it.

So, Jack ate his lunch as usual. He felt self-conscious eating in front of strangers but tried his best to seem as calm as possible. 

Jon chatted idly with Murray, something about an upcoming game that Jack easily tuned out. When Xavier brought up the topic of the Halloween dance, Jack was suddenly paying more attention.

"Isn't the football team helping set that up?" Murray jabbed at his food.

"Last time I checked, it's only if you want to," Xavier said.

"That's gonna suck to set up if you're planning on going,"

"You're going?" Bo was shocked.

"You're not?" Murray retorted.

He shook his head. "Don't want to. Last year was lame enough and the spiked punch got replaced in five minutes."

"I remember that, yeah. I was planning on going with my girlfriend. It'll be hot to see her in a nurse costume or something."

Xavier rolled his eyes. "I'm going with Elaine. What about you, Jon?"

Jon froze but managed to recover smoothly. "By myself. I was planning on hanging out with friends and that'd be all. We'll see if something else plays out."

Jon turned to Jack. "You?"

Jack almost choked on his peas. "By myself, too."

Everyone at the table tolerated Jack, but their stares felt insanely cold. He lowered his gaze into his lunch tray.

The lunch bell rang. Everyone packed up their belongings and headed to class. Jon tugged on Jack's arm as he began heading towards his next class.

"Jack. Are you going by yourself?"

Jack nodded.

"If so, why don't we meet before the dance? So we can get our costumes together? I was gonna be a werewolf."

"I was thinking a zombie? Or something like that."

Jon let go of his arm. "Right. So, my place at 5:30 or so on the night of the dance."

"Yep."

"Cool. Cool! Alright, see you later!"

He ran off, leaving Jack feeling warm inside.

-

**October 31, 2012**

"I'm off for the dance, dad," Jack yelled to his father.

"Be back home by eleven! Don't worry, I'll feed Chapel!"

Jack shuffled through the bag he carried. Everything was inside, the SFX makeup, the shirt he tore the night before, and even the fake ribs he was gonna tie to his chest. 

Chapel sniffed the bag and meowed at him curiously. He received a head scratch in retaliation, and Jack was out the door.

In a few minutes' time, Jack reached the front door of Jon's place. He knocked, rung the doorbell, and waited expectantly. 

His mother opened the door. 

"Jack, honey! So lovely to see you! Are you here to dress up for that Halloween dance that Jon and Rudy are going to?"

"Yes, Mrs. Archer."

"Come in, then. I made some cookies for Halloween!"

She led him to the center table where several racks of orange and black cookies sat drying.

"Be careful, they're hot!"

Jack nibbled on the edge of an orange cookie. Pumpkin and cinnamon, he noted.

"They're great, Mrs. Archer."

"Thank you, sweetie. Go upstairs, Jon's in his room."

He finished his cookie and went up to the stairs. As expected, Jon was in his room. His door was open. Jack peeked in to see him dressing, buttoning a ripped red flannel.

"Oh, hey, Jack, brought your stuff?"

Jack raised the bag in his hand. "Yep."

"Sick. I'm almost done here, just have the ears and the tail left. You can go get dressed in the bathroom. Left of Rudy's room, by the way."

Jack left and got ready in the bathroom. The trickiest part of the whole costume was the ribs. He struggled to get them to stay in place but managed eventually with the help of an extra belt.

He dug out the makeup. Not being much of a guru himself, he just filled in his cheeks and neck with gray face paint. It looked sunken enough, he thought. Some green underneath the eyes and on his nose looked decent, and he felt like a creature of the night. He splattered some fake blood over his shirt, careful not to get any on his only good pair of jeans. Some fake scratches were done with red eyeliner, and he was done.

“You look great, Jack!” Rudy had just finished getting ready. She wore a robe that went down to her ankles, a pair of matching black shorts underneath. On her head was a pointed hat, and she carried a small broom in a free hand. 

“Thanks. Witch?”

“You guessed it. I can finally wear my pentagram necklace without getting weird looks.”

Jon popped his head out of his room. “You done? Nice. Let’s go.”

They went to the garage, a covered building separate from the main house and a short walk away from the path leading up to it. Jon had acquired his dad’s keys, and with his permission, would be driving them to the school for the dance.

Jack realized how cold it was outside. His thin shirt wasn’t going to help much against the bitter wind, but he had forgotten to pack a jacket, so there was not much he could do.

They got into the car, an SUV with at least ten years of age. It rumbled to life, and Jack reached for the heater as soon it was on to warm himself. Rudy sat in the back, double-checking her makeup and hair in a small, compact mirror.

He pulled off the dirt road onto the paved. A short drive later, they rolled up to the school. Even from inside the car, you could hear the music. 

Jon got out first, followed by Rudy and Jack. He shuffled for his wallet and pulled out the right amount of money for three tickets, and they walked to the front door.

A long line had already formed outside the gates. It progressed relatively quickly, and soon enough they were inside the building. 

The main party was in the gymnasium, but there were plenty of people hanging outside in the courtyard. The three marched to the gym, greeted by several students in full costume attempting to scare them.

Inside the gym, the music was blaring. Jack’s ears felt like they were going to explode, but he endured it as best as he could. As soon as they were inside, they split up. Jon headed over to his friends, and Rudy to her’s.

Jack was left alone. As crowded as the gym was, he felt lonely. 

He eventually drifted over to the snack table. Nothing too complicated, just chips and store-bought cookies. He grabbed some for himself and walked towards the wall, eating the chips slowly and observing the people around him.

Jon was talking with Xavier and Murray. They were accompanied by their girlfriends, who wore simple but revealing costumes. They were happy and having a good time. Jack could not relate.

Rudy, on the other hand, looked miserable. She talked with a sour expression, ranting about some topic with passion. A few other girls her age were listening intently.

An hour or so passed. Jack walked in between the tables, occasionally stopping to say ‘hi’ to one of his friends. He tried to dance at one point but gave up shortly after he saw several people watching him.

Leaning against the wall, he began to feel light-headed. He rushed to the bathroom at the back of the gym. It was empty, thankfully. The music was also more muffled.

Jack looked at himself in the mirror. He was sweaty, and the makeup on cheeks had rubbed away significantly. His eyes were tired. He was tired. Without rubbing off the makeup, Jack splashed water on his face. It was a relief. He could still see that sad look in his eyes, but he tried his best to ignore it. The door opened.

It was Jon. “Hey,” he said. His voice echoed.

“Hey.”

“Heard you were hiding in here,”

“What? I’m not hiding?” Jack shook the water off of his hands and wet them again.

“I saw you go into the bathroom half an hour ago. You’re definitely hiding,”

Jack looked up at himself. “Right,”

Jon leaned in the space that separates the sinks. He faced Jack. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Of course, it’s just loud out there,”

He looked skeptical. “You sure?”

Looking at himself, Jack knew he wasn’t.

“Yea. I’m fine.”

Jon frowned. He straightened himself and placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“You text me if you need me. Alright?”

“Alright,”

Jon left.

Jack turned on the sink again. For a few more minutes, he stood in front of it, just feeling the water run over his fingers. After some time doing this, he returned to the dance.

The music was deafening. He went over to where Rudy was.

“Hey Jack,” she yelled over the noise, “Where have you been?”

“Bathroom,” he yelled back.

“Right. Saw you go in there.”

She turned around and pointed to the snack table. “I saw someone spike the punch with vodka, I think. Might not want to drink it.”

Jack turned over to where she was pointing. The punch bowl. He walked over to it with resolve and served himself a cup.

He smelled it first. Definitely alcoholic. He took a sip and was taken aback by how strong it was. He had not drunk alcohol before, so this was his first time. He took another swig. And another. Until his cup was empty. His throat burned. He filled up his cup again. 

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much, but the room began to spin. Not in a vertigo way, but as if he was watching the scene in third-person. 

He spotted Jon in his haze and watched him from a distance.

Two girls, not Xavier and Murray’s girlfriends, were talking to him. He was laughing politely, but the girls were beginning to get handsy with him. One was leaning on his shoulder, tugging on his fake wolf-ears. The other had taken his palm and was tracing the grooves on the underside of it.

Jon didn’t seem too uncomfortable, but this extra attention was starting to make him uneasy.

Jack felt spite. Jealousy. Rage. Why did those girls get to be all over Jon? Why couldn’t he do that without being called ‘gay’ or some other slur?

He finished his third cup. Jon had left the girls and was back to talking to his friends. Jack’s anger lessened. He reached to refill his cup once more when a pair of hands latched onto his shoulders.

It was Rudy. “Stop it, Jack.”

“Just… one more cup.”

“You’ve had enough of that stuff, Jack. Listen to me.”

Jack’s tongue felt thick and heavy. “One more.”

“No,” Rudy said with insistence, “We’re gonna take you home. You’re drunk,”

Rudy took the cup out of his hands and tossed it into the nearest bin.

Rudy took Jack by the hand and dragged him over Jon.

“Jon. Drive us home. Please,”

“It’s only 10, what’s wrong?”

“Jack’s drunk,”

Jack lowered at Jon. He was angry, still.

“Fine. Let me say bye to my friends.”

Rudy took Jack by the arm and took him outside. It was freezing, and they both shivered in the cold air.

“Look, we’re gonna drop you off at your house.”

“What? I’m fiiiinnnnee. The party's still going?”

“You’re not,” Rudy shook Jack by the shoulders, who barely responded, “You. Are. Not. Fine. Let’s go to the car.”

Rudy hauled him to the SUV. Minutes later, Jon appeared.

He unlocked the car and turned on the heat. Jack sat in the front seat begrudgingly.

The car started and they began to drive. Jon glanced over to Jack and asked, “How did you get drunk?”

Rudy answered for him, “The punch was drugged with alcohol. He drank, like, three cups before I stopped him,”

Jon gave Jack a disappointed glare. 

“Why do you care, huh? Itssa none of your business,” Jack’s tone was embittered.

“You’re my friend. I worry about you sometimes, you know?”

Jack flew into a rage. “Friend? Is that all? Huh? Well, great. Just… drive me home, Jon. I’m done talking to you.”

The car was silent for the rest of the ride.

“We’re here,” Jon muttered.

Jack jolted awake and got out of the car. He made sure to slam the door and flip off Jon from the outside. He didn’t react. He just looked at Jack with sadness.

Jack stumbled up to his driveway. It was frigid, and his plastic ribs were falling off.

Fumbling for his keys, Jack unlocked the door. Chapel was waiting for him but backed off when he smelled the alcohol.

The light to the kitchen was on. Patrick Ferry, in a nightgown, was raiding the fridge. 

“Oh. You’re back. How was it?”

Jack pulled a face. Without speaking he launched himself onto the couch, sinking into its disgusting cushions. 

“Lame. Verrryyy lame. A waste of my time. Ugh.”

“Something’s up, kid. Did you drink alcohol?”

Jack flipped himself over to face his dad, who was hovering over the couch.

“Someone laced the punch bowl with vodka, apparently. And I drank some. Just a liiitttle bit.”

Patrick wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t say much, because he knew how hypocritical it would be.

“Drink some water. You’ll need it.”

He filled up a glass for his son and handed it. Jack didn’t realize how thirsty he was, and he stuck out the empty cup for another. He downed it as soon as he could.

With his best effort, he went up to his room, brushed his teeth with minimum effort, and slipped into his pajamas. 

Chapel curled up in bed next to Jack, and soon they were both asleep.

-

**November 1st, 2012**

As soon as Jack awoke, he felt the most nausea he had ever felt in his life.

Practically flinging Chapel off of him, he ran to the bathroom. Chapel, displeased that he had been woken so abruptly, trotted after him.

Within seconds of reaching the toilet, Jack vomited. A pasty liquid, with no real substance. He hadn’t eaten much the night before, anyways.

Chapel’s anger soon faded when he saw the discomfort in his owner’s face. He licked his exposed leg as Jack dry-heaved into the bowl.

After emptying his stomach, a throbbing headache set in. The daylight in the bathroom was blinding to him. 

He sat on the floor and cried. At first, for nothing. But vague memories and emotions came flooding back, and he suddenly did have a reason to weep.

He had school that morning. He reluctantly stood up, took an aspirin from the bottle on his sink, and got dressed. He glanced at himself in the mirror and saw the remains of last night’s makeup. He scrubbed it off as best as he could. His breath smelled faintly of alcohol. A few rinses of mouthwash did the trick but he was still exhausted.

His dad was already eating breakfast downstairs. “How are you feeling, kid?”

“Like garbage.”

He took a sip of coffee. “That’s what happens when you drink alcohol. Don’t do it again.”

“Not like you can say much, dad.”

His father remained silent.

Nausea still lingered for Jack. He couldn’t eat breakfast. He just left the house, catching the bus as soon as he could.

When he got to school, Jon was waiting for him. Jack lowered his gaze and walked up to him.

“You were acting pretty weird last night,” he began, a look of concern on his face, “Are you feeling any better?”

Jack put on a smile. “Yea.”

Jon was still frowning. “You lashed out on me. What was that about?”

Jack’s smile faded. “I don’t- I don’t remember.” 

He was lying. He did remember. Faintly, of course. But the gist of it was that he was jealous. He couldn’t tell _that_ to Jon. He wouldn’t.

Things went back to normal. Jon seemed okay with Jack’s answer, but he was wary of his actions for the rest of that day. Jon still recalled how unfiltered Jack’s emotions were. The spiked punch revealed a side of him he had not seen before.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do with this information, but he moved on.

-

**November 12, 2012**

The day after Veteran’s Day. Jon was off from school and relaxing at home. He flipped idly through a magazine. One article caught his eye.

‘World to end on December 21st?’ He shrugged it off and kept skimming.

Rudy appeared at his door. “Hey, Jon,”

He looked up at her. “‘Sup Rudy,”

“Jack’s at the door.”

Jon threw his legs over the bed. “Is he? I’ll be down in a bit.”

He slid the magazine into his bookshelf and got dressed. He peered outside and saw trees swaying in the wind. He decided a thick sweater would be best.

Walking outside of his room, Rudy yelled to him. “Good luck,”

He wasn’t sure he would need it, but he responded with a quick ‘thanks’.

Jack was waiting for him at the door. He quickly hopped inside before a gust of wind blew leaves into the house.

In Jack’s right hand was a picnic basket, made of wicker and square-shaped.

“Jon.”

“Jack.”

“Are you doing anything right now?” He set down the basket on the floor.

“No, I’m not. Why?”

“Do you want to go for a picnic? In the fields? The weather is decent.”

The weather was not decent. The wind made an eerie sound, and the wind-chimes outside were ringing restlessly.

“Sure. But it might rain later.”

Jack’s face went through a range of emotions, finally settling on a vexed expression. “That’s fine,”

Jon shrugged and went to inform his mother.

“Mom. I’m going out with Jack for a bit.”

She was seated at the dinner table paging through a recipe book. “A picnic, yes? Here, take this pie I made. It was for dinner but you can have it instead,”

Jon tried to refuse but she insisted. He took it with both hands and slid it into the basket that Jack had prepared.

“Do you want to drive there? I can take my dad’s car.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s not far from here. We can just walk.”

And they did. The wind hadn’t reached a point of violence yet but it ruffled Jon’s hair. He wondered how long the picnic would last before a storm set in.

The forest path opened up in a meadow. He could see the steeple of the church over the copse.

That reminded him. “How’s Chapel doing?”

Jack brightened almost instantly. “He’s doing great! He’s been interacting well with customers. He seems extra cheery recently.”

The conversation lingered on his cat for some time until Jack stopped at a certain spot.

“Nice view,”

“Thanks, I-” he paused, looking for the right sentence, “I haven’t been here in a while.”

He didn’t elaborate more from that. Jack set out the blanket in the clearing, using rocks to weigh them down.

“So…” Jon sat down and looked at Jack for the next cue.

“Veteran’s Day. Right. I invited you ‘cause I knew we were both out of school today.”

Jon nodded, urging him to continue. Jack struggled for words.

“I-uh. Well… Brought some food?” He seemed unsure.

He took out wrapped sandwiches and handed one to Jon. The paper had a piece of twine looped around it. A small detail that Jon liked.

“Ham, swiss cheese, lettuce, mayo. I brought some extra condiments if you’d like.” His voice jittered and he fumbled with the checkered blanket.

“Thanks, Jack. Hey, are you alright? You seem nervous.”

“Right.” He lowered his gaze. “My dad didn’t come home last night.”

Jon was about to express his condolences when Jack jumped in. “He’s fine! He texted me and said he was staying at a hotel out of town. I’m just... Worried.”

He nodded and bit into his sandwich. It was good, and the ham was of good quality. Jon swallowed and decided to take the conversation elsewhere.

“Why do you celebrate Veteran’s Day? If it all?”

“Well, my mom served when I was a kid. She was this figure of strength and independence that I looked up to. She died when I was six or seven. I was able to move on, but my dad is still stuck in the past.”

“My deepest condolences. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“It’s fine, really. I don’t remember her much. It’s been so long.”

They ate in silence for some time. Jon finished his sandwich when he spoke up.

“My grandpa was in the military a long time ago. I never met him, but he’s in the photo album quite a lot. Some war-time hero, or something.”

Jon took out the pie that his mother had given him. It was marked as a blueberry and apple pie. It was still warm.

“It’s very nice of your mom to give us that pie. What flavor is it?”

He read off the flavor and peeled back the foil. It was gorgeous.

“I’m afraid I didn’t bring any knives or plates. We can just eat it out of the tin if that’s fine with you?”

Jack agreed and dug through the basket, pulling out two dessert spoons. He handed one to Jon.

Jack stuck the spoon into the crust, taking a heaping spoonful into his mouth.

“Wow!” He said through a mouthful of pie, “This is really good!”

Jon laughed. “I’m glad you like it.”

They talked and talked. The pie was complete by the time the wind had died down.

“Jon, what are you gonna do after school? Like, after high school?”

“College, probably. Coach said I can get a football scholarship if I keep up my winning streak.”

“Sports? I thought you liked science or something.”

“Yea,” Jon sighed.”

“Then why aren’t you doing that?”

“I guess I have a secured job if I go into football. A science teacher doesn’t seem like a stable job.”

“What do you mean? Football is more unstable than education!” He pushed Jon playfully. “Do you really want to go into sports? Like, is that what you’re passionate about?”

He was unsure. “Yes.”

“I was planning on staying here. Dad wants me to run the shop, so I guess I have a job planned out for me already.”

“No college for you? You seemed like the type that would go straight to that.”

“My dad doesn’t want me to. He’s getting old and he wants an heir to the throne that is his retail store. Ha. What a joke.”

Jon turned and faced Jack, moving the basket to the other end of the blanket. “Is that what you want?”

“Of course not! But I don’t get much of a choice,” he exhaled.

“Hey. If you need help getting into a college, I’ll support you full-heartedly.” Jon placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

Eye contact lingered for a few more seconds, and Jon looked off into the field. The sky was still gray, but at least it wasn’t windy anymore.

Jack spoke. “Pfft. You’re helping me get into college and I still have to convince you to follow your dreams.”

Jon looked at him curiously. “What do you mean? Football _is_ my dream.”

“I can tell it’s not. You are a bit of a doof sometimes.”

Jon opened his mouth in mock horror. “Really? Where are your sources? Do you have a bibliography page?”

Jack broke down into giggles. “I mean, you act like you’re not smart. But you are! Smart, but not clever, I’d say. You’d miss something right in front of you!”

Jon elbowed him slightly. “I have good eyesight, you know.”

Jack giggled again. “That’s not what I meant, _doof_.”

Jon pulled a frown. “What do you mean, then?”

“You’re oblivious. You don’t see the social cues.”

Jon looked Jack hard in the eyes. “So? Can you give me an example?”

“Uh. Sure.”

Jack leaned in and kissed Jon.

Jon was too shocked to do anything, but he didn’t stop it either. Jack cupped his hand on Jon’s face and kissed him. He pulled back after a moment or two.

“Oh.” Jon didn’t know what to say.

“You didn’t-you didn’t see that coming, did- did you?” Whatever illusion of coolness that Jack was maintaining slowly melted away. His eyes began to water. “I’m sorry,” he refused to meet eyes with Jon.

“I’m going to go now. I’m sorry.” He picked up the basket and bustled away, not even bothering to get the blanket. Jon reached out his arm to try to stop him, but he was not able to.

As soon as Jack had left, the wind picked up. Jack laid down on the blanket and smoothed the grass next to him. He didn’t know what to feel, but he felt sad that Jack had left so soon. 

He thought about the moments leading up to the kiss, and the kiss itself and his heart thudded. He had never had that kind of contact before. Even with the girlfriend he had in middle school they never did anything besides hold hands. He remained there in thought for a while. 

The wind was at a howl now, and he felt that he had to go before it got worse. He folded the blanket and darted back in the direction of his house. 

A drop of water struck his forehead and he jolted in surprise. It was raining. His sweater didn’t have a hood, so he covered his head with the blanket. He would wash it later.

He arrived back at his house soaked. The rain had reached cataclysmic levels and he could barely walk without getting needle-like beads of water drilled into his face.

Jon knocked frantically at the front door. His mother opened it. “Oh hi, boys. How was-” she looked behind him and saw that Jack wasn’t there. “Where’s Jack?”

He leaped inside, swinging the door shut behind him. 

“He left really quickly. He had chores to do or something.”

Jon wasn’t prone to lying, but he felt that it was necessary this time.

“Oh. Is that blanket his? Want me to put it in the washer for you?”

He handed her the wet quilt. “Please.”

Jon went up to his room and changed. He was drenched to the core. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick.

Rudy popped in again. “So?”

“It was alright. He left early so I walked home by myself.”

“Why did he leave early?” She walked in and sat at his desk.

“Uh,” he wasn’t sure if he should tell her the truth or not. “Chores, he said.”

Rudy seemed suspicious, but she didn’t question him further. She left.

Jon took out his phone and texted Jack. No response, but the message was marked as viewed on the other end. 

He left it at that and prepared himself for bed.

-

**November 13, 2012**

At school, Jack avoided Jon. Every attempt at contact was thwarted by some external force, or just Jack’s incredible ability to dart away.

At lunch, Jack sat by himself. Jon tried to sit with him, but he just moved away.

He didn’t understand why Jack was ghosting him. Sure, he kissed him, but that was that. He didn’t mind it all and didn’t think that it should put their friendship in jeopardy.

So, Jon respected his wishes. After that day, he made no more attempts to contact Jack. Occasionally, he would pass by the book store and see him working inside. Jack seemed fine, much to Jon’s relief.

Rudy would often relay messages from Jack to Jon. Indirect, of course. It was mostly just how Jack was acting and if anything was new with him. He was pleased to hear that his father had returned, but he heard nothing besides that. 

Jon was glad he was better, so he left him be.

-

**November 17, 2012**

Jack’s father had just arrived at the bookstore.He was carrying a parcel, opened.

“Look what arrived in the mail, son. It’s for us.”

Indeed, the letter was marked ‘For the Ferry Household’.

“What is it?” Jack was curious, and he came out from behind the counter to get a better look.

“It’s an invitation. For a Thanksgiving meal,” Patrick Ferry sounded gruff and displeased.

“From who?”

“Says here from ‘the Archer family’.”

Jack’s heart dropped in his chest. “Oh.”

“Do you wanna go, kid?”

He was hesitant. “Sure. Free food amirite?” He didn’t sound like himself.

His father gave a hearty laugh and slapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

In reality, Jack didn’t want to go. Confronting Jon at this stage would break him. He didn’t think he would be able to face him without collapsing into tears and mumbled ‘sorry’s.

But he decided to go, anyways. He knew that that year his father would do nothing but stay inside and drink beer. At least if he got drunk at another person’s house he wouldn’t be alone.

Somewhere deep in his heart, he was excited. Like a little kid restless on Christmas eve. But his other half felt fear. He would linger after Rudy at the event and try his best to avoid Jon. He wouldn’t tell Rudy why, just that he wanted to hang out. Would that be a good enough excuse?

His father went to the break room. He heard the crack of a soda can. He hoped it was soda.

Chapel was nowhere to be found. That didn’t worry, Jack, however. He knew that Chappie was probably crawling along the support beams that held the roof up. He just hoped that he wouldn’t bring back a dead mouse from his journeys. Alive would be worse.

To keep his mind busy, he worked. He went through the stock, organizing feverishly. His mind would drift back to the party that awaited him but he refused to acknowledge those thoughts.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. He would take a brief break. Not in the break room, his dad was in there, but outside.

It was colder than expected. His sweater did no good to keep the cold out. He looked up. The sky was bleak and few birds could be seen flying above. 

Jack walked along the sidewalk, peeking into the neighboring stores. They seemed busy, compared to his. Did he remember to put up the closed sign? He couldn’t recall. He walked back as quickly as he could.

To his surprise, Mrs. Archer was waiting inside. He had forgotten to put up the sign and she was looking through the bookshelves.

She looked up when she heard the door ring. 

“Oh! Jack! So nice to see you here!” She hobbled over him and caught him in a tight hug.

“Nice to see you, too, Mrs. Archer. What can I help you with today?”

“Right, right! You work here,” she pursed her lips, thinking, “Well, I was looking for a cookbook. I love cooking for Thanksgiving but I’m not sure what to do this year. Any recommendations.”

Jack began walking over to right section. She followed attentively. “Here’s some, ma’am. This one here has recipes for the holidays, so this might suit you.”

She was very pleased with the selection. Jack darted behind the counter and started up the computer. She paid for the book and left.

Although it was a quiet afternoon, he knew what hell awaited him on Black Friday. He would be working double shifts along with his dad, trying to handle the hoard of customers that usually walked in. If he was lucky, there would be only about five to ten. During his sophomore year in high school, there were around 40 people crammed into the store. He hid in the breakroom that afternoon and had a panic attack.

Two more people came in and bought books. Coincidently, more cookbooks. His dad left an hour before his shift ended. He left soon after, closing the shop for the night. Once the lights shut off, Chapel came running, ready to head home.

He opened his arms and Chapel hopped into them. He wasn't carrying anything besides his phone is his pocket so his hands were free. Holding his cat like a baby, he headed down the road to his house.

It was dark. He'd taken this route many times before, but for whatever reason, he felt on edge. The concrete sidewalks eventually turned to dirt roads. The street lights he left behind.

Chapel turned his head in his arms. His yellow eyes flicked back and forth in the darkness, looking at something, or someone.

He took a shaky breath and kept walking. But Chapel didn't like what he was seeing. He meowed sharply and leaped out of Jack's arms.

He yelled. "Chapel! Come back here!"

But he was already gone. He hoped he would head home but he wasn't going to take that risk. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

He was surrounded.

In a half-circle around him, four people stood facing him. They wore masks, and they wielded sticks of some sort.

He turned his camera towards the nearest one and saw that it wasn't a stick. It was a crowbar.

Jack cautiously backed up, but they moved along with him.

His voice shook when he spoke out. "What do you want?"

A deep voice to his left. "We want to hurt you, that's all." The voice sounded almost sweet, but it sent chills up Jack's spine.

"What did I ever do to deserve this?" Jack was getting scared. His head swiveled back and forth looking for an escape route, but there was none. Just woods and dirt path blocked by these men.

"We heard a rumor," spoke the one in the front.

"Yea, a rumor!"

"That there's a little _queer_ at Alacrity High." Jack's stomach clenched.

"Yea, a little faggot."

Tears threatened to spill.

"That _someone_ has a crush on a star football player."

One holding a baseball bat moved forward. "Oh, but I don't think it's just a crush, now is it?"

The boy with the crowbar cocked his head. "Yeah. I _swear_ I saw them _kissin'_ one Veteran's day afternoon."

Jack's only choice was denial. "What are you talking about? I have a girlfriend." He didn't.

"Really now? A girlfriend? That doesn't add up."

The ground seemed to tilt. He felt light-headed and in danger. Right now it was fight or flight.

Four against one, his odds weren't very high. They all had weapons, and he only had his phone.

The semicircle tightened. They were all less than a yard away from him.

His legs moved without command, and he began to run as fast as he can.

Before he could get far, one of them grabbed his arm.

The grip was tight. He tried to yank his left arm free, but he just couldn't.

The others walked up. Still caught in his grip, the first one swung. 

He felt a metal pipe strike his right shoulder. It jolted back, pain rushing in. His breathing accelerated and he tried to pull his arm back again.

He couldn't. The next one struck. It was the crowbar this time. Thankfully, he overshot. He was too far away to do much damage but felt a gash open up on the side of his head and neck. He touched the area and it came back wet.

The boy holding him dropped his bat and grabbed at Jack's arm with both hands. He then used his foot to push him to the ground.

Jack's jaw struck the dirt hard. The gravel dug into his chin. Someone stepped on his back.

The more Jack struggled, the more they hit him. He tried to push himself up but his fingers were squashed by a foot. His glasses hit the ground hard. He felt the frame crack.

He gave in, and they went to work. His hands were tied with rough rope and he was hauled onto someone's back. He could barely maintain consciousness. It felt so easy to just shut his eyes and go to sleep…

But he wouldn't. He had to stay awake. He saw his phone laying on the ground, the light eventually dimming to black. But, he wasn't sure if that was his eyes or the phone.

He tried to kick, but whoever was carrying him was strong.

His heart slowed. The once supersonic pumping of his blood became a faint pulse. More blood trickled down his neck. He hoped they hadn't hit a major artery.

But something snapped him out of his daze. A yell far behind the pack of high schoolers.

The group turned around, leaving Jack in the dark about who was yelling. But it was obviously someone they knew.

"Xavier? Aren't you supposed to be at practice?" The boy carrying him asked.

"Yea. But it's over now. Who are you carrying?"

"Just some fag we picked up down the road."

"Wait, what? Why?"

"To teach him a lesson, duh."

Footsteps approached the group. Xavier. He walked around to get a better look.

"Is that... Jack? What the fuck! What did he ever do to you, Bo?"

Bo hushed him, but it was too late. Jack had picked up the identity of at least one of his attackers. He wasn't sure if he would get the chance to use that information, however.

"What, are you a fag too? Want to kiss him and tell him it's alright?"

Xavier was quiet and walked to the front of Bo. Silence. Then the sound of a fist hitting teeth. Jack was thrown to the floor in surprise, and he managed to twist himself upright. His hands were still tied.

After Bo, their leader, was taken out, the remaining three boys fled. Bo wiped his mouth and spat. He muttered something and ran, a crushed plastic mask the only thing left in his dust.

Jack opened and shut his eyes hard, trying to clear the blood that had dripped into them while he was being carried.

"Are you okay?" Xavier began to untie his bonds.

"Barely," murmured Jack, still in shock.

"I think the closest place we can take you for these injuries is the church. Can you walk?"

Jack held out his arm and Xavier pulled him up. It was the bad arm. He winced.

"Oh shit. Sorry. I think the road is not too far from here. I can just call my brother to come to pick us up."

Slowly and painfully, Jack limped to the asphalt road. Xavier pulled out his phone and texted his brother. Minutes later, a black truck rolled in. Its bright LED lights blinded Jack.

He struggled to get in. The car was elevated off the ground and every bend of his knees sent a spike of pain up to his brain. 

The lights inside the car were dim, but he was able to see the driver. It was Xavier's brother, a guy of about 20 with shoulder-length dreads. He was wearing sunglasses, even though it was night.

He lowered them to get a better look. "Damn. What happened to this dude?"

Xavier spoke for Jack. "Some guys beat him up." He wasn't about to sell out Bo yet.

"Damn." He turned around and put the car into drive. "I think mom's home. We can go see her."

Xavier turned to Jack and spoke quietly. "Our mom is a nurse, so she can help you."

The rest of the drive was in silence. Xavier's brother was listening to music, but he had turned it down when Jack got into the car.

Every bump in the road felt heightened. His arm moving up and down caused him to wince, even if he was cradling it.

Thankfully, they reached a stop soon enough. They got out of the car, the drop sending pain shooting up Jack's leg.

His eyes cleared just enough for him to see the house. The walls blurred together, but he could tell the lights were on.

The brother dug around in his hoodie for his keys. He fumbled with the lanyard and finally managed to get the door open.

Jack squinted once he was inside. The light there was even brighter than the truck's headlights. 

He was lead to a couch. He heard that one of the boys yelled for his mother. He wasn't sure which one. 

Trying his best to not get blood on the upholstery, Jack heard quick steps approaching on the hardwood floor.

He looked up to see a big, black woman come running. Her hair bobbed on her shoulders, a purple nightgown hastily thrown on.

"Oh my goodness! What happened to this poor boy? HAROLD? CAN YOU GET ME MY SUPPLIES?"

Harold followed soon after, carrying a white briefcase with a red cross printed onto it. His glasses sat askew on his nose. He was woken up recently, Jack could see.

Immediately, she got to work. She dabbed an antiseptic pad on Jack's neck. The alcohol burned him, but he tried to keep his composure. She whispered sweet nothings, words meant to bring comfort to him during this difficult time. He relaxed, letting his shoulders untense. 

This slight movement caused the pain to show on his face, and she realized that there were more injuries besides the one on his neck and face. She asked for permission to pull back his shirt collar in the form of a nod, and Jack allowed her to continue.

"Oh my," she whispered. "What happened to you?"

Jack didn't respond, and she didn't pressure him any further. She continued to clean his wounds on his neck and face until she stopped to speak.

"I can tell that your arm is dislocated, sugar, so I'm gonna have to push it back into place. This might hurt for a minute, but it's better we get this done as soon as possible."

She did a brief countdown and shoved his shoulder back into place. Jack gasped out loud, but the pain was gone soon after that.

"Better? Let's get back on that crazy puncture of yours. I'm gonna have to stitch it together, so tell me if you want some numbing medicine. It's not an anesthetic but it'll make it not hurt as much."

She rubbed a lotion around the opening, the feeling dissipating after a few seconds. She got the needle out and begun to stitch. He was grateful he didn't feel it because he was sure if he did he would pass out.

The gash was sealed, his face cleaned and patched, and his shoulder was in the right place. A wave of drowsiness fell over Jack, and he was ready to fall into a deep sleep.

Before he could do that, he muttered, "My dad," He remembered that he had never gotten home and he must be worried. He hoped he was worried.

Jack touched his hand to his pocket only to find it empty. His heart dropped, but Xavier saw this small action and stuck his hand in his sweater. 

His phone. It was beaten up and the battery was drained from the flashlight being on but it would still turn on. He unlocked it and dialed his dad, the phone rang three times before he picked up.

"Hello? Jack? Why aren't you home yet?"

He didn't know what he'd tell him, so decided on the truth. Or at least a more watered-down version of it.

"I got beat up by some kids on the way home. Is Chapel ok?"

"Yes, he's right here- wait, beat up? Why?"

"I don't know," He did. "They had a grudge against me or something."

"Are you okay? Where are you right now?"

"A friend's place. His mom is a nurse and she patched me up."

"Jon's?"

Jack exhaled sharply. "No, not Jon's. Another friend."

"Oh. Ok. Do you want me to pick you up?"

He looked around to the family that surrounded him. The mom spoke in a low tone. "You can stay if you want, darling."

"I think I'll stay the night. I'll see you tomorrow."

Patrick Ferry hesitated before talking. "Are you sure? I can get there in just a few minutes. It's no burden."

"It's fine, dad. Thank you. Goodnight."

Patrick sighed. "Goodnight."

Click. Jack let his arm drop. His eyes felt heavy. Everything felt heavy.

Xavier’s mother placed a warm hand on his cheek, away from his bandages. “Are you hungry, dear?”

Jack nodded weakly. It had been hours since his last meal. He was planning to eat when he got home, but he never got to that.

“Let me get you something to eat. Do you like chicken curry?”

Chicken curry sounded amazing. Jack smiled.

“Alright then. You wait here.” She patted a firm hand on his shoulder.

A sweet, but strong aroma wafted from the kitchen. His stomach growled. He was alone at this time. Xavier and his brother had gone off. The only person in his vicinity was Harold, who leaned on the kitchen counter. His gaze shifted between his wife and Jack. When looking at Jack, he smiled sadly, seeing an image of his children reflected on the injured boy. He hoped such atrocity would never happen to his boys.

Soon, she came back. She was carrying a large plate, wrapped in a kitchen towel.

“Be careful, it’s hot!” Jack took the bowl with both hands. It _was_ hot.

“Thank you, Misses…”

“Nichols. But you can call me Jacylynn.”

“Thank you, Misses Nichols. For the food. And for helping me.”

She dismissed him. “It was no trouble, sweetie. What’s your name?”

“Jack.”

“Well, Jack. Just know that you are welcome here anytime. Now eat up, and I’ll go set up a bed for you.”

She disappeared down the hallway. Jack took this as an opportunity to gulp the food. Although it was a little spicier than he’d normally like it, it felt like _home_. Which each bite, warm hands wrapped around his heart. He never wanted to leave.

The plate was finished in no time. With a bit of unease, he stood up, shuffling to the kitchen to wash his plate.

Mrs. Nichols appeared in the doorway, wagging a finger at him. “You are our guest, Jack. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

Jack glanced at the time on the kitchen stove. It was almost ten. He felt his exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. Without a word, Jacylynn leads Jack to the bed she had prepared for him in the guest room. He waited for her to leave, took off his clothes down to his boxers, and sunk into the sheets. They smelled fresh, and the plush blanket she had left him made his rest even more euphoric. 

Before long, he was asleep. 

-

**November 18, 2012**

"Jack, what  _ happened _ to you?"

Jack was sitting across his dad at the dinner table. 

It was the morning after leaving Xavier's place. After eating a hearty breakfast, he walked back to his house. He was offered a ride, but he refused. He needed time to think about what he was going to tell his father.

Even with that half-hour of thought, he still wasn't sure what to say.

"Mrs. Nichols stitched me up." 

"Right, right. You told me that already. But what  _ really _ happened." After a brief pause, he added, "You can tell me anything, son."

"Some kids beat me up on the way home from the store. There's nothing more to it."

Patrick Ferry shifted in his chair, pushing it in closer to the table. "I feel like there is.  _ Please _ , tell me, Jack."

"They beat me up because-" he paused and sighed, "I had snarked them back at school."

He looked at his son curiously. "Really? That's it? Anything else?"

"Nope. Just some teenage boys looking for revenge." He muttered 'teenage delinquents' under his breath for dramatic effect.

"Well," his dad wrinkled his nose, "You should shower."

That was one thing that they agreed on. Jack left the dining table and headed to his room, his trusty cat determined not to let him out of sight. 

Jack showered and laid down on his bed. Even after a comforting night of rest, he was mentally drained. So much stress in less than a few days. He tried to remember what the other thing that was causing him worry was.

Right. The Thanksgiving party. The day where he would have to see Jon.

He rolled onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow. Chapel pawed at his sides. 

After petting Chappie for a solid minute, he was finally calm enough to form a comprehensible thought.

The party might not be too bad. There might be a ton of people and Jon wouldn't even notice him. A small voice told him that maybe Jon had already forgotten about Jack, but he secretly hoped this was not true. Being erased from Jon's mind was a living nightmare. But maybe they could start over…

No. Starting over would be too hard on him. The both of them. He would have to face Jon head-on and apologize.

Remembering his face, Jack stood up and walked to the bathroom. On his neck, there was an obvious gash, neatly closed with black stitches. His face and collarbone were bruised. They didn't bother him much. They would probably fade away in no time.

He traced the edge of the sink with his thumb. Remembering the advice from the school counselor, he tried to turn his nervousness into excitement. 

And no matter how hard he tried, he still shook with fear.

-


End file.
